The Dragon of Elsweyr
by Dovaah
Summary: This is an Elder Scrolls: Skyrim fanfiction I've written entirely on my Khajiit, S'virri. S'virri is quite the unusual Khajiit, and things get even more unusual after he receives an interesting letter in Candlehearth Hall. WARNING! There will be spoilers!


The Dragon of Elsweyr

S'virri walked through the icy rain along the beaten path to Whiterun, knowing he'd have to keep his hood on to avoid been noticed by the guards. He didn't even know how he got this bounty, and he couldn't afford to find out.

He sighed as he came to the fork in the road and turned left onto the path toward the Whiterun Stables, which would eventually lead him into Whiterun itself.

_Gods, how I despise this Talos-forsaken city_, S'virri thought sullenly. _So many say its the most beautiful and lively city in all of Skyrim. I just don't see it..._

The Khajiit shook his head trying to clear his mind, causing drops of water to fly off of his golden fur and thick ebony mane.

_Ah, well, never mind that...first thing's first, bounty or no bounty, my first stop is the Bannered Mare for a catnap and perhaps a flagon of mead_.

He stood before the gates, his sabre-cat pelt cloak fluttering in the wind. Nervously, he reached for the door handle on the great wooden doors when a Nordic voice cut through the rain and the wind.

_Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me_, S'virri thought, rolling his yellow eyes.

"By the order of the Jarl, stop right there!" the voice snarled. _Here we go_... "You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people," the guard continued. "What say you in your defense?"

"I say you've mistaken me for someone else, _sir_," S'virri growled, making his unusually deep voice even deeper and gravelly to further mask his true voice.

"I know who you are, _cat_," spat the guard. "Either pay your fine or come with me to the prison, whichever you prefer. Unless you think you're man enough under that mangy fur to fight me..." S'virri sneered at the guard's last comment.

"It's your death wish," he said almost soothingly, his false growl returning to its actual silky purr.

The guard drew his blade, a battle cry escaping from behind his face guard. S'virri flattened his ears and bared his fangs, his eyes narrowed as he peered around the long teeth of his sabre-cat hood. He made no move to draw any weapons; he simply stood in the middle of the path in an aggressive battle stance. This confused the guard, causing him to falter momentarily. But a moment is all it takes.

Without warning, a feral roar well beyond the capability of a man or even a normal Khajiit welled up in Svirri's broadening chest and escaped through his lengthening fangs and muzzle. The Khajiit's arms grew shorter as his back legs bent into that of a beast's. His hands and feet compacted into giant paws, vicious claws extended through his toes.

S'virri, now a monstrous sabre cat, dropped to all fours in front of the guard and roared one more time for good measure, causing the poor guard to fall backwards onto his armored backside. The guard gaped for a moment, struggling to find words. Eventually, he did.

"_WHAT IN OBLIVION ARE YOU?_" He shrieked. Not bothering to stick around to find out, the man scrambled to his feet and clumsily sprinted away from the beast, screaming bloody murder.

S'virri chuckled to himself, noting that the guard had soiled himself in his terror. However, the Khajiit's amusement was short-lived as more guards poured through the Whiterun gates and swarmed S'virri, seeing nothing more than a simple sabre cat.

Growling, S'virri fled, knowing he was outnumbered and didn't have enough energy left to fight all of the guards. And so he continued on to Windhelm.

It was well after midnight when S'virri finally came up to the Windhelm gates, panting and shivering despite the warmth of his fur and his physical exertion. He had changed back into his normal Khajiit self long before he reached Windhelm for fear of frightening some of its residents. S'virri deeply disliked Whiterun, loathed it even, but he had no quarrel with Windhelm. Besides, as a Stormcloak, he needed to stay on Ulfric's good side.

The Khajiit gathered his golden cloak around his sabre-cat armor and up to his chin, still freezing. He pushed the vast iron doors to Windhelm open and rushed through them to the promising doors and warmly lit windows of Candlehearth Hall. S'virri opened the inn's doors in a flurry of snow and ice. He shook the cold off, along with melted snow and ice, which earned him a scowl from the innkeeper.

"Evening, Elda," S'virri said politely, if a bit sheepishly.

"Just clean it up," Elda grumbled. "And don't break nothin'!" S'virri chuckled; he knew she was rude simply because of long hours and short breaks. But he decided to tease her all the same.

"We're happy tonight, aren't we?" he snickered as he mopped up the water he had tracked in and shaken off. Elda continued to scowl.

"What d'you keep sayin' 'night' and 'evenin' for? It's damn near four in the mornin'!" she snapped.

"Well, excuuuuuse me!" S'virri snapped right back.

"Don't you get snippy with me, fur ball," Elda growled. S'virri waited until her back was turned, then childishly mimicked her words silently, making a mocking face.

"I saw that!" Elda grumped. S'virri just chuckled, propping the mop against a wall. He strode over to the innkeeper's counter and threw a few septims onto its surface. "I suppose I've teased you enough," he laughed. "One room, please."

Elda dipped her head, pocketed the money, and motioned for S'virri to follow. "Right this way."

S'virri closed the door behind Elda and began to get undressed. He had only gotten off his chest plate, cloak and helmet when Elda burst through the door. "Oh, by the wa-whoa."

Her words melted as she took in the Khajiit's fine physique, looking from his muscular tufted chest and tattooed arms to his sculpted abdomen, and was about to look farther down when S'virri cleared his throat. Elda looked back at his amused face, blushing furiously.

"You were saying something?" the Khajiit prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes...oh, yes, yes, right. Um, here, take this; I got a letter from a courier a day or so ago, I said I'd hold it for you," she explained hurriedly, still blushing. Elda produced a folded piece of paper from her pocket and offered it to the Khajiit.

"I bet it's another bounty," S'virri grumbled, taking the folded parchment. "But thank you. By the way, don't you know how to knock?" he laughed. Elda scowled again.

"Hey, it's my inn, I get to use the doors whenever I want to!" she snapped, trying to regain some of her pride. S'virri simply chuckled once more.

"Good night, Elda," he purred, noting how she gave his body one last visual sweep before exiting the room. Turning his attention to the letter, S'virri broke the wax seal and unfolded the scroll. There was just one sentence, scrawled in a hasty manner:

_"Meet me in the back room of the Dead Man's Drink in Falkreath." _

There was no signature; instead, a single large paw print was inked upon the parchment.


End file.
